Amethystine
by Zerepak
Summary: What happens when a high maintenance prince finds himself forced to play the role of a babysitter? Eye rolls, deep calming breaths, and impressive self-restraint are all very necessary in the care of a small child.


What happens when a high maintenance prince finds himself forced to play the part of a babysitter? Eye rolls, deep calming breaths, and self restraint are all very necessary in the care of a small child.

_Amethystine_**  
**

* * *

"_Loki_!"

Weight sunk one side of his bed eliciting an intensely irritated groan as one whining, unwelcomed little girl clambered into his personal space. Dark air confronted his sight with when he opened his tired eyes. Nothing else seemed to exist aside from his crippling need for sleep. And his freshly cleaned sheets were ever so inviting. So he did what any other teenager would in his position.

But the thick down pillow couldn't muffle out her high-pitched cries.

Rather than acknowledge the annoyance, Loki tried to pretend he was sleeping for as long as possible until heat seeped through his blanket in the shape of a small hand, hissing and burning. Burning flesh smelled disturbingly similar to meat on a grill. First thoughts were of his wonderfully smelling sheets, if he didn't end this nonsense soon he would have to have his linens washed. Again. Then he might be stuck those plebeian cashmere blankets. _Again_.

"Please help Loki," a squeaky little voice choked through pitiful tears, "It hurts so much."

Loki squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping she would disappear. But the crying and whining didn't cease.

The itch was back. He wanted to commit homicide. At this hour, who in their right mind could truly blame him?

Fed up with the pathetic, half scalded, smelly-skinned child disturbing his once peaceful slumber, Loki took a deep breath to keep from inhaling anymore toxic air and turned to the other side in one graceless movement as his feet tangled in the sheets, binding his legs together uncomfortably. It was impossibly dark, so he batted his hand around like a game of whack-a-mole until the hissing was replaced with a high pitched squeal. Loki retracted the hand instantly.

"Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Loki?"

Volla's arm, which hooked over the side of a pillow, burned the hell out of his hand. And her voice was anything but helpful as he nursed it. It was the exact opposite of helpful, actually. And by 'nursing' of course it meant sucking on the burned part of his thumb like an infant. At least the pain succeeded in waking him fully. He glanced around bleary eyed until he saw the time projected on the ceiling.

04:48.

Too early to even pretend he cared about anything but his blistering palm. Too early to deal with any of this, especially the wretched little girl with thermoregulation issues.

The tiny ball of sweat and pyjamas scooted closer, encroaching on the space designated for peaceful sleep and not-so-innocent dreams about a certain blonde with a propensity for magic and innuendo. Loki groaned and held his hands out to halt the invading force, careful not to mistakenly touch her skin again.

It was beyond him.

How in the nine realms, one might ask, did a prince (_and such a handsome one, at that_) end up permanent babysitter to a fire demon? Well, it goes a little something like this…

* * *

"Look at the eyes on _that _one!"

A blonde boy snickered, jabbing an elbow at his friend, while lifting a broken panel of heavy mahogany. Two of the other boys, feeble as it may be, tried to hide their own wicked grins as they crowded the tiny opening like moths to lamplight.

The word 'forbidden' was lost on Thor, Volstagg and Frandral. Trouble attracted them like soap to a baby's eyes.

Through the lifted board were crystalline waters. They cascaded over iridescent tiles where they fell in a spiraling pattern until halted by a massive grated drain at the room's center. Bubbles and droplets skittered across the surface to escape the rush of water that seemed to appear out of thin air just above. Ladies of every age and sort giggled and gossiped with one another about who did what after which festival and what the queen's latest hobby happened to be, all loud enough to drown out the muffled snickers from behind a pair of massive paneled doors.

A young girl with long, straight black hair made sleek as oil from the shower strode from the back end of the misty setting and into view of the young delinquents.

_"Eww!"_

_"Is that-?"_

_"Of course not!"_

_"I-I think it could be!"_

Three bickered, pushing and scrambling in front of their peephole to get a better look.

The girl's posture suddenly jolted pin straight and turned her head slowly toward the culprits.

_Caught_!

Frandral slapped the panel back into place and shuffled backwards on his butt. Volstagg could probably say he was looking for a snack and got lost in the ladies bathhouse. This was the glutton's 'go to' excuse, and it would probably work.

Frandral had no exuses. He had long plagued the fairer sex, even before he was old enough to speak. He would absolutely catch the blame for this little game even though it was _Thor's_ idea in the first place.

The blonde prince smiled devilishly at his skittish friends, almost condescendingly, but too light hearted to be taken that way.

That was always the way with Thor.

"Fear not _fair maidens_!" He laughed lightly, trying not to draw any further attention from the other side of the door. He lifted the panel and spied with one eye through the crack, tongue poking out from between his lips out of concentration, only to find their alarm unfounded. "Lady Sif was simply surprised by her friends."

The others didn't understand how he always appeared so utterly unfazed.

Volstagg grunted to hold in a yelp when Frandral climbed over his head, pushing it down with one hand as he eagerly peeped through.

Sif's back was now, not only covered by a soft white towel, but was also surrounded by a bouquet of friends, laughing about all kinds of lady-like things for sure.

"Who is that?" A soft voice asked from behind the trio. No one paid the small speaker any mind.

Normally Loki stayed away from the other boys' misadventures. But ever since Thor began training, the younger prince rarely saw his brother. He was too young to join him at the arena, and he wasn't overly upset by that. It was Thor's company he desired, not the brutish excitement of war games.

The other boys were weary of bringing the youngster along, but Thor insisted. And one does not simply argue with Thor Odinson.

"Lady Sif?" Frandral said, answering Loki after a few long moments of drooling over the pretty, mostly nude, women. "She is one of the only girls in history to train for the army. Seems she has quite a fondness for our dear Thor."

Loki's eyes whipped to his brother's back so fast that they pulled his head with them.

Thor ducked to hide the spreading blush across his cheeks. "Has not!"

"Has too!"

"Begging for a wallop are you?"

The two boys argued back and forth while Loki tried not to get involved, feeling his own impatience toward the situation growing. Obviously he knew who Sif was, she had been part of their playgroup since before all of his baby teeth fell out.

The person he was trying point out was the foreigner who walked in impatient circles just down the hall, casting a glance at them every few minutes. She seemed to be waiting for someone, pacing with nervous velocity.

Volstagg ignored the arguing boys and pulled a bag of red berries seemingly out of thin air and began munching without a care of the threats that flew over his head.

Thor, after some negotiating, seized victory. All of the girls liked him better and Frandral would have to deal with the used up castoffs for all eternity. Not that the vulpine youth minded.

An ominous shadow crept over their huddled little selves and Loki tried not to show his displeasure.

He would recognize _that_ shadow anywhere.

"_**Princes**_**!**"

The deep, bellowing voice of a distraught middle-aged woman boomed through the hall, vibrating the air with its unfaltering command. "Such behavior is unbecoming of royalty and young gentlemen! Allfather will be disappointed in you, Loki." Her autumn eyes swooped to the smaller boy accusingly as if he was the only person there.

Verdant eyes watched from the shade of dark lashes, first eyeing up his brother who stood up from his place next to the door defiantly and folded his arms as he stared up at the woman who dare lecture a future king. Loki glanced to the foreigner down the hall who tacitly observed the scene with newly inspired interest. She then began a slow walk in their direction.

Loki squirmed in his skin. To be scolded before a stranger was a mortifying prospect. He ducked back behind Thor's leg, silently begging his big brother to just accept responsibility. The older boy faced the lady above them with a cheeky smirk.

She wore thick, scratchy sand colored skirts and a red shawl with intricate gold metal weaving along its trim in the shapes and shades of autumn that turned harsh with reds and orange when she was in the right light. Like right now as she began her tirade.

She was their nanny, Gefjune.

"…and as for _you_, Thor…"

A sinfully broad smile drew over Thor's lips, Gefjune's assault faltered briefly, perhaps not long enough for anyone else to notice, but Loki knew their battle was won. Gefjune could rave all day, but all Thor ever needed was a smile. It was every living person's kryptonite, even Loki's at times.

To Loki's right, where their friends once were, was just empty space. They must have bolted when Thor's distracting smile gave them a chance. Loki used the back of his brother's deep red shirt for leverage to pull him self up and stand beside Thor.

Gefjune went on, far more calmly, about how they lacked the morality of a king and how Asgard was in trouble if either took the throne.

"… you are to apologise to your mother at once-"

"Excuse me."

The interruption was deceivingly commanding as it was veiled by quiet demure. The foreigner did not have a deep tone, yet the words sounded heavy with an accent none had heard before. Her calm voice held enough gusto to halt Gefjune's chastising words mid speech.

The larger, older woman turned slowly with reprimanding words hanging off of her tongue, finger held up in front for emphasis.

Large, koi fish scales shuttered and sparked with opaline light along the foreigner's jawline, up to the sides of toxic green eyes. The scaled woman straightened haughtily. She was gilded in bright clothing of all colors; every which way the light struck caused the waves of fabric to ripple a new color. Fire seemed to explode sparks across the stitches. A hijab of the same fabric wrapped tightly over her head to hide her hair and ears, leaving only the face of a strange looking woman with serpentine eyes and long, thin lips that seemed to crease a little too far to the sides of her face, nearly hooking all the way up to her ears.

Broad Gefjune turned with an appraising eye. Thor and Loki both felt their bravery wane.

The younger woman bit the corner of her lip ("Were those fangs?" Thor hissed over his shoulder. Loki shrugged, wide eyed.). The woman's slit pupils dilated at their stares. Both boys took a cautious step back.

"I am to meet with Queen Frigga, her grace." She continued in her cumbersome accent, interrupting Gefjune before she could manage to speak.

It sounded unnatural for the foreigner to speak English, like she had rocks or marbles in her cheeks that only let her speak through the very front of her lips. The way she pronounced 'with' sounded more like 'wheat', and 'excuse' was more like 'excooz'. Loki absently wondered what her native tongue might sound like.

A lilt of recognition bounced Gefjune's features from offended at the interruption to unadulterated exuberance. "Oh!"

The older woman bowed her head with rushed reverence, allowing Loki time to measure whether or not they had enough time to run away.

They didn't.

"Lady Saule! Of course!" Gefjune held her hand out to the side to introduce the boys, and to halt any intention of escape. She twitched her thick, sausagey fingers urgently at the two boys so they would come closer to the terrifying stranger.

"These are Her Majesty's children." She introduced with a smile. "Thor," she placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder. He smiled gallantly up at Saule who looked highly unimpressed, if not somewhat disturbed, sneering ever so slightly. Gefjune nodded slowly with a withering smile and placed a finger to her lips to keep Thor from further compromising a very delicate situation.

"And Loki." Gefjune added almost as an afterthought, returning her attention to the foreigner. "They are this realm's, ehm," her face twisted into a fake smile. "_Exhilarating_ future." 'Doomed' was the first word that came to mind.

Saule shifted her weight, moving a small gold package from one hip to the other, sizing the two boys up with deep-set eyes. Her brow ridge protruded significantly, causing her huge, round eyes to sink deeper into her skull.

Noting the anxious tightness of the motion, Loki tried to stand on his toes to look more closely at what she held, his curiosity getting the better of him. Thor grabbed the back of his collar, wrenching him back. Lady Saule shot the boy a warning glance, narrowing those reptilian eyes sharply.

Loki shuffled back further, heart fluttering.

She had no eyelashes! Only black, smooth and fine, snake like scales around the rims of her eyes. Saule's thin, black eyebrows, which Loki also realized were simply darkened skin, lifted nervously. She shifted the bundle back to the other hip, away from his prying eyes then crouched to his level. Expression tight, movement slow and measured the whole way down.

"Hello Thor, Loki." She held out a surprisingly large hand, armored with a metal woven glove, to Loki intimidatingly. But he was busy trying not to laugh at how she said 'hall-oo' and "Th-oo-R".

Thor snatched at the hand first, Thor's lurching arm smushed across Loki's face. He side-glared at his overzealous brother.

Lady Saule maintained her appearance of indifference though she found the way the two brothers interacted highly entertaining. She noted how impossibly blue Thor's eyes were under the squint of a true smile. The fade of freckles dashed over the bridge of his nose leaving a mischievous little prints across his face. Her critical gaze turned when the smaller brother shoved Thor off.

She gave the younger boy her hand and he took it with a gentler grip than his brother and shook it properly without once looking up at her eyes. Instead his downcast eyes fixated on the glove she wore. Saule wondered what could possibly interest him more than the face of a monster.

Then,

Pain. It shot through every muscle fiber. Wrist, forearm, and elbow, then through the deep inner shoulder. It was unceasing. Hot lightning traced up blindingly white until it danced over the nerves of her scalp, freezing the small muscles of her face, rippling painfully, undulating beneath the surface.

Saule ripped her hand from the little boy's grasp and a dull look overcame her, nearly toppling to the ground before catching herself on Gefjune's wrist. The typically rock solid nanny seemed at a loss for words, gaping like a fish as she saved the foreigner from collapsing like a pyramid of marbles.

The glove on Lady Saule's hand slipped down a few millimeters; just enough to see tough, white scales lining her wrist. The scales were so clear and shiny, like oil over a puddle after a sun shower. Loki needed to touch them.

Loki fell hard on his backside and scrambled back until he hit his brother's shins. Thor loomed from above with a criticizing scowl on his face. The accusing gaze of Gefjune was enough to make Loki want to hide forever.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" He apologized repeatedly. But Gefjune was already leading Saule away. Lady Saule's head turned over her shoulder. This wide, horrified expression jostled with each step she took. Loki felt terrible. He never had a knack for making a good first impression. Not like Thor.

Loki was the kind of person to grow on you over time, like moss. Or like fungus. Watching Lady Saule's skirt flutter into the closing door of the other room made, feeling Thor's disapproving eyes on the back of his head, Loki feel like a parasitic blight on the tree of Yggdrasil.

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A/N: _Welcome to my story, readers! If you like it please leave me a review to let me know so I can keep it going. If you hate it: same protocol. Let me know if anyone is out of character, I'm trying to keep it as close to realistic as possible. Thanks!_


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